


the saddest thing about betrayal

by BasilGrey



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Character Study, Dealing with Dramatic Season Finale Events, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, perspective study, set after Secret of the Sundrop, these guys have a lot to think about, written mostly pre-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BasilGrey/pseuds/BasilGrey
Summary: Broken trust can make it a little hard to sleep.(Post-Secret of the Sundrop)
Relationships: Cassandra & Varian (Disney: Tangled), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Queen Arianna of Corona/King Frederic of Corona (Disney), Ruddiger & Varian (Disney)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	the saddest thing about betrayal

She was being crushed.

 _Squeezed_ , smashed in a giant fist, and the metal around her ribcage was so tight that she couldn't breathe. She writhed and gasped for air that wouldn't come, gritting her teeth, trying to shout for help, for him to _stop_ —

" _Ari? Ari, Arianna, wake_ up—"

The world blurred and swam as that accusatory _shouting_ , that creaking of metal joints became louder and then faded abruptly. Everything was grey, all of the sudden—dark and blurry and unseeable.

Her eyes were open now, but the automaton was still flashing before them, crushing her and staring down at her with an eye of emotionless red glass.

Slowly, the dream faded, and she was left staring in fear at the dim grey of the royal chamber's walls. Her eyes stung, and her heart pounded painfully against her sore ribs.

"Arianna?" came a worried whisper from behind her. She looked quickly over her shoulder, though the abrupt motion made her head swim.

Her husband had sat up and backed away from her as far as he possibly could, eyes wide, holding his arm against his chest as if she'd stung him.

Her eyes pricked with saltwater, and only because she knew he couldn't see her expression in the dark, she grimaced and nearly slammed her forehead back into her pillow.

Her husband had always liked to sleep with an arm around her, to protect her, to _hold_ her. Could she not even tell the difference between him and—and _that?_

She shook her head into the pillow.

"I'm fine, Fred," she whispered, a bit more stiffly than she'd intended to. The thought of sounding terse with someone who cared _so much_ hurt even worse. Tears from one eye ran across the bridge of her nose, where they joined the pool in the other and wicked out onto the linen pillowcase.

Her daughter was leaving soon. Her son—she'd come to think of him as a son, since it was safe to say that he would be, soon—was leaving too. Couldn't she have just one night of rest to prepare?

Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye—something glowing green in the dark.

She almost jolted up to stare at it, but no, no, it was _fine_ ; it was just a section of stained glass in the moonlight.

She was safe in her chambers. It was fine.

She'd thought she was safe here when Varian had come for her, too.

_Hello, Your Highness..._

Her head ached and her eyes were _so_ tired, and she sank down into the bed. Her heart still slammed into her ribs every half-moment, but she tried to ignore it and just _relax_. She should not be afraid of a child. He was only a child. She had seen angry tears leaking from his eyes when he was removed from the prison wagon and taken to the dungeons.

But that was the thing—he was a child, and children never quite realized how much they could hurt others.

Her husband was still sitting up, and even with her eyes closed, she could feel him hesitating.

"...Arianna, I'm..." he started softly, voice uncertain and very clearly concerned about hurting her further. "I'm... sorry, I..."

He was a great and noble king, and yet he faltered, because this was another of a long line of things that no father or ruler or husband should ever need prepare to deal with.

She took deep breaths until her shoulders stopped shaking and she could finally speak without losing her voice.

"I'll be fine, honey," she whispered, making sure her voice was gentle this time. He deserved to have one constant in his family, one person who was always steadily beside him—and if destiny required their daughter of them, it would be her. _This wasn't your fault; I'm sorry, dear; please don't blame yourself again—_

"...Are you... sure, dear?"

"Yes," she whispered, because she would be. "Thank you. Go back to sleep."

 _sLEEP_ — an eerie voice echoed in her mind, and Arianna winced, pressing her head deeper into the pillow.

—

Fearing for the safety of others was not a new sensation to her.

Fearing for herself was.

—

She felt crushed.

It was late, long past the time she should have been in bed. They were setting out in two days, and tomorrow, they would be gathering all the supplies they would need. It would be a long, busy day full of packing and planning and seeing to all the injured guards. She _almost_ had the idea of baking get-well-soon cookies for them—but she immediately felt horrible for considering that, because they'd probably had enough cookies to last a very, very long time.

Except maybe Pete. Pete still might like cookies.

She kept her chin up and tried to smile, of course. It wasn't her best smile, or an incredibly happy one, but her friends had already been through _so much_ with her and she didn't want to worry them further.

Despite not wanting that—or at least _kind of_ not wanting that—Eugene was still there beside her, eyes clouded with concern.

"Blondie..." he began quietly, from where he sat next to her at the other end of her window seat. It was late, and she was very tired, but her mind was far too awake to rest. It helped, a little, to sit curled up here and stare out at the familiar courses of the stars. "...It's okay to feel shook up. I am too. Today... wasn't anything any of us expected."

After everything that had happened, _shook up_ was maybe not the best phrase to think about. It made her almost forgo numbness and let her shoulders start to shake—but no, _no_ ; her mom was okay and Cassandra was okay and Eugene and Pascal and the others were okay, so what right did she have to be upset? Her dearest loved ones were alive, and _safe_ , and that was enough.

That was _enough_. She had _so much_ to be thankful for. She had to be happy about that.

 _It could've all been avoided if you were a better friend_ , said a persistent little voice in her head.

"I just..." she tried to begin, because even though the words hurt, they wanted so badly to get out. She sighed, her gaze falling from the stars outside to the cushion between them. "...I still feel _so_ bad about Varian," she said quietly, just barely keeping her voice from hitching. Because _please, please—t-the rocks, they're encasing my dad; you are the only one who can help! I KNOW you can! You have a CONNECTION to these rocks!_

" _That_ kid..." Eugene began, making an odd face as he tried to figure out the right words, "...well... he needs some help."

_No, no, no! Please! Princess! You—wh—you promised you'd help me!_

Rapunzel winced.

He'd _needed_ help. He was like this now because she _hadn't_ helped.

It was all past tense, and it made her sick to her stomach.

"How did that even _happen?"_ she asked Eugene, almost desperately, turning her head a bit to meet his gaze. "The rocks _encasing_ Varian's dad? Those rocks have— _destroyed_ almost everything they touch; how could they _encase_ something like that?"

She really, _really_ didn't want to think about the logical answer that prodded at her from somewhere inside. Varian had _caused_ the amber to grow toward her mom; he'd frowned impatiently and stalked over to the black rocks with a bright yellow flask in hand and—

A hesitant look came over Eugene's face.

"I... don't know, Blondie," he said quietly. His gaze traveled back out the darkened window, out toward the stars at the edge of the kingdom. "You said he was trying to do something about the black rocks, right?"

 _Just give me until my father gets back_ , she'd said, because she couldn't go _before_ then; she'd _kept_ that promise or she would have if she'd only _checked_ on him after things settled down. How had she been so absorbed in feeling guilty that she kept putting off someone who needed _help?_

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, and Eugene must've noticed her expression. A hesitant look came over his face, and he leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, looking like he wanted to be closer to her. She did need a _little_ space, after all that had happened—but a big part of her didn't want much.

"My guess? The kid probably had some kind of alchemy... ah... _incident_. I mean, y'saw what that kid did to his own village when he was just trying to help them. Put him in the same room as some destructive, magic black rocks? _Something's_ bound to go at least a little wrong. None of it's your fault. You know that, right?"

 _It's NOT MY FAULT!_ a boy's frantic voice, choked with sobs, echoed again through her thoughts. _None of it is!_

_It's HER fault._

Something in Rapunzel's throat caught at this—and she turned away a bit, ducking her head and trying to focus on anything but how much her heart was hurting.

Things had turned out okay, hadn't they? Her family and friends were unhurt. Not everything could always be perfect and nice.

The way Eugene's breath caught and he spoke with such tenderness in his tone reminded her that maybe _some_ things still could be.

"...Oh, hey—" he said softly, his voice full of the heartache she felt. "Sunshine, hey."

Eugene scooted over, almost behind her now that she'd turned away. He put both arms around her, drawing her against his chest in a gentle embrace.

Rapunzel, trying so hard to keep her negative emotions tucked neatly away, closed her eyes tightly and turned a little bit to nestle into him.

Unbidden, her eyes opened again, troubled by a new thought. _Can anything break it if my hair can't?_

If there was such a thing, she didn't know where to _begin_ looking for it. Maybe their journey would give them some answers.

"Do you think I should go see him?" she whispered after a few minutes of silence, because everything in her protested at the thought, but she couldn't just _leave_ him. Not with no explanation, no follow-through. Not again.

Eugene held her a little closer. She could feel his heartbeat, and it made her feel warm and secure and _so, so tired._

"If you think it'll help," he said softly, the side of his jaw pressed against the top of her head. "...But if you think it probably _won't_ help, maybe it'd be best to let everyone cool down for a while? I don't think anyone's thinking too clearly after today."

"Yeah... maybe," Rapunzel murmured, her eyes trying to close despite her best efforts. It was nice to have someone close, who you _knew_ wouldn't leave.

It felt strange, drifting off when her nerves still felt so tense. It was a distant echo of earlier, when her magic had turned to strain and pain and a detached haze of ever-nearing unconsciousness.

But it was also so different, because she was warm and _home_ in the arms of someone who loved her.

It was enough to block it out, almost—all the lingering hurt and guilt and hopelessness.

_Maybe our trip won't be long. Maybe I can find a way to help. Maybe we can figure this all out after we get back._

_Maybe my destiny is to find a way to really help people._

It felt better, and just for now, she clung to that.

—

Betrayal was... scary, and awful to think about.

But if you could focus on other things, it didn't feel _as_ bad.

—

She was hurting.

Just physically, of course.

With no small amount of pain yanking at most of her nerves and muscles, Cassandra drew her sword and her two daggers, as well as her paring knife and the four arrows she'd tucked down the side of each boot. (Two arrows? The rest must have slipped out. These remaining two had gotten broken, even in her boot. Her ankle didn't feel like it'd fared much better.) She placed each of the blades in its spot in her weapons cabinet—or, in the case of her primary dagger, under her pillow.

She glanced her sword over before she placed it in its storage sheath, lips twitching downward as she noted the blunted sections and massive _dents_ in the blade. It would need polished and resharpened and polished again if she wanted it to be half the sword it had been before.

Still, the too-familiar ache of physical exhaustion behind her eyes dragged at her eyelids, so she slid the sword into its holder and gave it one last look of displeasure.

A gleam of something small and purple shone faintly from the one of the back hooks of the wardrobe, reflecting a trace of firelight from the hearth.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed, and she frowned, reaching over to shift a large scabbard on top of the offending purple object. A small _chink_ sounded from behind the leather-bound sheath, followed by the faint clatter of small stones as the necklace fell from its nail and hit the wood floor of the cabinet.

It could stay there until they got back from following the rocks, for all she cared. Maybe after that. She rarely dug down to the bottom of her closet.

_Nice gift to give to someone you're gonna try to kill later._

It wasn't her first time getting one of those. At this point, she should start a collection.

Her gaze fell on the rose from Andrew— _Hubert_ —that was still peeking out of her storage quiver. Its red petals, now opened slightly and turning a pale pink as they dried, stood out in contrast to the white and black fletchings on her stash of arrows.

Not in a particularly charitable mood at the moment, she glared at it, too.

_Is every guy who acts like they like me going to try to kill me?_

Andrew had been so easy to read. There were only so many incorrect ways to spell "bibliophile" and all of them made a person look stupidly unlearned. She'd seen his betrayal coming, to the point where it wasn't a betrayal at all. It was almost... _fun_ , in an espionage-like way, to put up a matching front for someone, to get to know them without any risk of getting attached. Without any risk of them actually knowing much about her. With full confidence in how to handle the situation, and a full explanation for anyone who asked why she was showing a _softer_ side to someone.

If a guy pulled a sword on her, she could take him out in moments. She was trained for that.

Varian... was a different case. She'd thought she'd known him well enough, at least as far as she cared to. He was smarter than most people would notice, and loyal to a lot of faults. He'd go to a painful amount of extra work to help anyone he cared about. He probably expected that people would do at least half as much for him.

Getting put at swordpoint by illiterate rebels, she expected.

Being crushed by a _kid_ was something she had not been prepared for.

She stared up at the insignia on the crest of her weapons cabinet, eyebrows furrowed. Every muscle attached to her ribcage protested when she took a breath. The thick leather armor she always wore protected her from a lot of things, but a massive metal automaton fist was not one of them.

Her skin was some shade of grey-green or puce almost everywhere after that fight.

She should've worn her metal royal guard's armor, but—to be painfully honest—it was _Varian_. She hadn't known what the heck he was thinking, but part of her hadn't thought she'd actually _need_ armor meant for protecting her from serious harm.

She huffed bitterly, not sure why she was surprised, and closed her weapons cabinet and drew the lock.

_Can't open up to a single person without regretting it._

It wasn't that she didn't have friends. She had friends, more than she wanted sometimes, and she cared for them deeply. If she needed to sacrifice herself for them one day, she would. No questions asked. That was what she was there for.

But—it was _just_ —Raps could never _understand_ or keep anything quiet, and there was no way she could open up to _Eugene_ , and her dad needed to see her as a soldier who was vulnerable to nothing. The other ladies-in-waiting were all gossips. Andrew was literally never an option. Owl was... great, but still an owl. He followed her enough that he knew how she saw things. There was no reason to tell him.

Despite being annoyingly obvious about his crush on her, Varian wasn't any of those things. She'd trusted him, at least a little—at least to not think of her differently if she wasn't totally closed-off with him. At least enough to realize he was smart, and that he understood, a little bit, what it was like to work so hard and still never get to show people what you were capable of.

And she'd been right. He understood, and didn't think of her differently. He knew what it was like.

He'd just tried to kill her anyway, was all.

Was that all she was to everyone? An _obstacle_ in the way of what they wanted?

Cassandra was sorely tempted to flop into bed in a pettily aggressive way, but she was also sorely _sore_ , so she settled for a less-than-satisfying thirty seconds of trying to gently lie herself down. Every muscle in her side screamed if she made the mistake of tensing it, so she finally just gritted her teeth and got it over with.

 _At last_ , she was lying down, facing the ceiling and trying to ignore the pressure against her back. It hurt, but putting all her weight on her side would be worse.

She'd seen the guards unload Varian from the prison wagon. He was facing away from her, shoulders hunched and head down, hands crossed and cuffed behind his back.

_I hope he rots down there._

She closed her eyes, but all she could see was the confident, awkwardly-chuckling kid who beamed at her like she was the world.

It felt weird, juxtaposed with what was echoing through her head from today.

— _AS MUCH PAIN—AND AGONY—AS I HAVE!_

She yanked a pillow over her face and forced herself to think of nothing but sleep.

—

Betrayal hurt, a little bit.

But she'd get over it.

—

_She promised._

_She PROMISED._

_YOU CAN'T JUST BREAK A PROMISE WHEN SOMEONE NEEDS YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING—_

A soft _churr_ by his ear broke him out of his thoughts, though barely.

It took him a minute of enraged blankness, because it was so easy to _think_ in here and forget where you really were, but at last, Varian looked over slightly to meet Ruddiger's eyes.

Ruddiger's masked face was overcome with concern. His little ears were bent back, and he nearly seemed to frown, blinking with big dark eyes. _Mrr?_

Almost mechanically, Varian took a slow breath, then reached up and stroked the head of the raccoon that perched on his shoulders.

Mid-pet, Varian paused to gently tip his head forward and let Ruddiger nuzzle his face reassuringly.

The words were stuck in his throat, at first. He wasn't used to staying silent for so long. He should probably drink the water they'd given him.

"I trusted them," Varian whispered to the air. "I thought I had friends. I trusted them a _lot_."

Hearing the hurt in his voice, Ruddiger gently rubbed his head against the boy's cheek. Slowly, tiredly, Varian reached up and set the raccoon down on the wooden cot beside him.

"Some _friends_ they turned out to be," he spat under his breath, glaring briefly at the iron bars of the cell.

The dungeon was cold and silent after that.

A faint draft came from the window, lukewarm and damp with the night air off the ocean. It wasn't anything like the crisp, fresh breeze off the mountains and fields of Old Corona.

Ruddiger, seeming to sense the bout of homesickness, sat beside him and gently put a little hand on his arm.

"...Sorry, buddy," Varian whispered, his emotions feeling more than just drained. "You can go to sleep."

Ruddiger circled around his back for a moment, bushy tail brushing against him all the while. It didn't really feel comforting.

Finally, when it became evident to the raccoon that the boy was not going to do anything else, Ruddiger pattered down to the foot of the cot and lay half-curled on the burlap cushion.

Varian just stared at the opposite wall of the cell, surrounded by shadows and bluish-greys. A soft, chiding chitter from Ruddiger told him he should rest too, after today.

But if he lay down, he'd have to _think_ about today or force himself to _not_ think about today, and both of those options made him feel sick to his stomach. He wasn't the _royal family_ ; he couldn't just ignore his problems—but thinking about them didn't feel appealing either.

So even though his eyelids were heavy and kept trying to flutter closed, Varian simply sat on the edge of his cot and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

 _You promised_ , he thought weakly, because it was hard to stay angry when you were _so tired._

_I was just trying to get you to make good on your promise._

—

Betrayal hurt. A lot.

Why did it still feel like they didn't _really_ understand that?

—

_" The saddest thing_

_about_

_betrayal_

_is that it_

_never_

_comes_

_from your enemies. "_

**Author's Note:**

> AKA Varian Felt Hurt By Everyone And Now Everyone's Hurt By Varian. Try not to hurt people, kids! It tends to avalanche.
> 
> I have a strangely hard time writing Rapunzel? It seems like her perspective would come fairly easily, since she's the main character, but yipes. Clearly, I need more practice! Advice is very welcome. XD
> 
> ( ~~Me, flailing my arms comically as I type: HOW DO YOU WRITE NEW DREAM??? FLUFF??? PRE-EXISTING ROMANCE??? HOW DOES THIS EVEN WORK~~ )
> 
> Most of this was written after I finished the first two seasons of the show last year, but life has been hectic and I've been frantically writing down new fic ideas pretty much constantly since then. That, and Rapunzel's scene did not want written, for some reason. XD But it’s finally done! On to oneshots about more recent developments! >;D
> 
> Comments, kudos, and free purple cookies are very much appreciated! (Wait... maybe not that last one.) I have many more fics coming for this AMAZING show, so stay tuned! <3


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